It’s not exactly scenic but it suits our purposes. We have taken up residence in a traditional trailer park in Tucson for the next month. Gone are the natural vistas of the national parks and the wailing of coyotes in the desert wash. We have traded them for the sewer connection and the electrical grid connection of the Crossroads RV Park. Our primary motivation for this conventional setting is the availability of the nearby University of Arizona. With so much time on my hands I have once again taken up my German studies.

In my never ending, penny-pinching quest for the best deal, I stumbled upon several foreign exchange students at the university who will willingly tutor me in German conversational skills. The alternative was to employ the Berlitz school in Phoenix but that worked out to $80/hr which seemed a bit much. In a classic “cut out the middle man” strategy I get the real thing for a small fraction of that – $20/hr.

Mary is pleased with our present circumstances because it provides her with unlimited nearby shopping opportunities. Should she wish to exercise, there is a fitness facility on the corner. Two miles away is the connection to the bicycle path that encircles the city. If anyone is suffering here it would be Rudy. He has to be walked on a short leash lest we incur the wrath of homeowners who don’t appreciate dog turds in their front yards. (Mary has adopted the new-fangled practice of “bagging” dog turds but I prefer the traditional natural approach of natural decomposition.)

Tucson is a very bicycle-friendly city. While the university campus is a full four miles from our trailer park, there is a nearly traffic-less bicycle route the whole way.

I was pleased to discover that Tucson is populated by numerous orange trees, the fruit of which no one seems interested in harvesting. They let the oranges fall to the ground. “Fresh fruit going to waste!” I thought. Not wanting the fruit to go to waste, I “havested” a few oranges. Now I know why no one else does. These things are more appropriately called “orange lemons!” Tart! Sour! And don’t tell me they’re not ripe. They’re bright orange and falling to the ground.